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Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Place Them In a Box Until a Quieter Time.

When I was a senior in high school, a group of my friends and I escaped from prison and crashed a Dave Matthews Band concert at the New Orleans Jazz Fest.

Just kidding about the prison part.

Needless to say, being the bunch of wild and crazy kids we were, we had an absolute blast. Dave was always in my tape player (yes, I'm totally dating myself here by saying I owned a tape player). I also had a mad crush on the man. Not only was he sexy as all get out, his voice was unique and his song lyrics were brilliant. What's not to love?

Fast-forward 13 years.

Add a few more wrinkles to my face.

A few more dimples to my ass.

A wedding band to my left ring finger.

And you have ME on Sunday.

Same place, same time, same band, same me - different group of people, but it was just as fantastic!

Let's get started with pictures, shall we?

Let me give you a bit of a warning, mmkay?

I am white. I'm talking one shade from albino, Casper is my best friend, milk laughs at my whitness white. I've come to terms with this over the years. To protect my flourescent white skin, I must wear 2,000 proof sunscreen along with every ridiculous sunhat on the market. I'd like to keep from looking like a leather bag for as long as possible, so I deal.

Here's my dislcaimer to you: In the following pictures, I will be wearing a ridiculous sunhat - the kind that 80 year old Boca Raton, FL residents wear on a daily basis. This is also my PSA to WEAR SUNSCREEN and take care of your skin. Louisiana is nestled in the armpit of the sun, so it's a must.

On with it.


3313_76659043239_511683239_1819947_349069_n Here we are starting our day. You’ll note that Joe is a Fun Guy and my afro has roots that would do any PWT (poor white trash) person proud.





IMG_5443The entrance to the Jazz Fest. They used my body silhouette to make that purple dancing thing.



IMG_5454As luck would have it, we all had to pee as soon as we got there. Oh joy. Port-O-Pots. Here’s my sister showing her disdain.



IMG_5456Here's Better than Ezra's tour bus.

IMG_5472 This is Dave’s tour bus. I stood outside stalking him most of the day. I think he was scared to get off of the bus for a while.

IMG_5471I have no idea who the hell these people are. This random picture was on my camera, so I figured I’d post it here.



IMG_5462Since we were special guests of Acura, we were able to get past the barbed wire fence and ravenous dogs to get a closer look at the stage!



IMG_5466Since my husband and I are Mr. and Mrs. Klassy with a kapital K, we decided to take this lovely photo. My grandma hat makes it even more klassy.

BTW, see how close to the stage we are?!

IMG_5464 My sister and me.

IMG_5475

Here I am with Dave’s body guard. I was very brave to stick out my tongue like that. He didn’t laugh. I cried a little.



3267_170604580561_742925561_6603151_7608224_nThis is the only picture I have of Dave. I have to actually be honest here – another person took this. My lame ass left my camera with Joe while my sister and I went to get some food. On our way back, Dave was out of his bus signing autographs. We ran to get our cameras, but by the time we got back, he’d already gone back in. The nice girl standing next to me was able to get this shot of him, and she sent it to me.


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Anyone recognize this man? Anyone? Anyone? Yes, it’s Red Forman from That 70s Show. For some odd reason he was on Dave’s tour bus. When he got off of the bus, I was the only idiot in the crowd shouting for him. The only problem is I don’t know the actor’s name. I only know him by Red. He turned to wave at me and was then kinda like, “WTH?”


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I didn’t care – I still wanted a picture with him! Like any girl with no self-respect, I ran up to him and begged for a picture. He obliged. I think I scratched his retina with my dorky black hat. After waiting for Dave for 30 or so more minutes, I decided to head back. Better than Ezra was playing at the time, and they were doing a fantastic job. I missed most of their set, but I did get to hear a few songs. Oh, and I got to take this picture when they were done…


Recognize this guy? He’s Tom Drummond from Better Than Ezra. I promise.

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Here he is performing at another concert. It looks like he’s wearing the same shirt?


IMG_5488Finally Dave comes out to play.

IMG_5487And play some more (sorry for the blurriness and the random hands)



IMG_5497The highlight of the show was standing behind Crystal Gail and getting knotted up in her hair.


So, all in all it was a great and tiring day. We were there from pretty much the time the gates opened to the time when they closed. We were so exhausted at the end of the day but running on a DMB high (and also b/c I got to meet Red and the Better Than Ezra dude).


That is all for now. I have some video that I may upload later. We shall see!



Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Grammar PSA of the day.

I make grammatical mistakes all the time b/c I'm only human, ryte?

So, I don't want this to come off as preachy or anything - God knows I can't stand people like that.

::runs for cover::

Please, for the love of God, when you're trying to make a point that there's no way to care less about a situation, please say "couldn't care less" and not "could care less."

For example:

"I couldn't care less that Specter has decided to switch political parties."

By saying, "I could care less that Specter..." you are implying that there are additional opportunities to care less which ultimately defeats the purpose of your sentence.

This is a big pet peeve of mine, and I just noticed it while reading something.

What're your grammatical pet peeves?

(I'm uber paranoid that there are multiple grammatical errors in this post now. If so, I love you - don't be mean.)

Monday, April 27, 2009

Random PSA for the week.

If you're at a family function, say Thanksgiving, and you want to show pictures of your pets, please make sure to erase all naked images of yourself from the camera prior to passing it around.

Before you ask, yes, this happened, and, no, the naked images weren't of me. I was just the lucky one who had the fortunate experience of seeing this. Nothing goes better with mashed potatoes and gravy than full-frontal nudity. Yay!

I am still embarrassed and feel sorry for the person this happened to (and myself for having to see this).

That is all.

Not so Golden.

Many of my friends and family know about my obsessive love for old television sitcoms. I've forgotten how to multiply, but I can tell you, in great detail, about every single episode of most 70s/80s sitcoms. I do believe God gives each of us talent - some of us can sing like an angel, some can play a guitar like a pro, some can speak with minimal effort to large groups of people. My talent? I can tell you which Golden Girls episode is airing just by watching the first second of the show. Hey, that's a talent. Don't judge.

If you've been keeping up with the news lately, many of you are probably aware that Bea Arthur, aka Dorothy on the Golden Girls, passed away from cancer on Saturday. Although the news shouldn't have been shocking to me, it still gut punched me. I mean, she's 86, she's lived a long life, I knew it was coming. It still hurts, though.

How can I feel such a connection to a fictional person whom I've never met? When you watch a show for as many years as I have, it's hard not to connect on some level. Dorothy was my favorite character. She was sophisticated, intelligent, respectable, witty, loving and caring, and although she only played a character on a silly sitcom, I guarantee she possessed some of these qualities in real life. How could she not? No one can act that well.

So, it is with deep sadness that I submit this post to you. There was no way I could not post a tribute to one of the best actresses of all time. Dorothy/Maude/Bea - you will be greatly missed.

In closing, here's a video of Anna watching an episode of the Golden Girls. Think she's a fan already?


video


Friday, April 24, 2009

I've gotta do it.

American Idol.

I held out for as long as I could without talking about American Idol, but it's time. I'm tweaking worse than a crack addict right now - I.must.talk.about.American.Idol.

Ok?

Please don't leave.

So, let me start by saying that this season is frindiggin' incredible! The talent is, by far, the best I've ever seen on the show, and Paula is drunker than ever - another plus! I had high hopes that I'd love Kara this season, but she's turned out to be another lame mix of Snoop Dawg Randy and PAAula. Simon, as usual, is spot on with all of his remarks. If they could duplicate him, I'd be completely content.

I'm seriously counting down the days until the next American Idol concert. If you've been reading my blog or if you ever read my blogs on MySpace, you'll remember that Joe and I went to the Houston concert back during the Daughtry season. Here are some posts if you're interested - lots o' pics included!

American Idol I
American Idol II
American Idol III

This year my sister, her husband Trent and Joe are going to be going with me to the concert in Memphis. I like to get in touch with my bumpkin trash roots every now and then and tour Graceland (we've been twice). :blush: So, I figured why not go tour Casa de Elvis and catch the AI show in one fell swoop? <---- I've never said that phrase once in my entire life. I can dig it.

My favorites this season are Adam, Danny, Matt and Kris. I think Adam is going to win and Danny will come in second. Matt is probably going home next week, unfortunately and then Kris will go home the following week. Know how I know? Miss Cleo told me so.


So, what're your predictions? Leave me some comments and let me know. Comments are delicious.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Itsa Miracle.

A good friend of mine recently found out that her unborn child (she's 30 weeks pregnant) did not develop a Corpus Callosum (a disorder known as ACC) - the area of the brain that connects the left and right hemispheres. Needless to say, the diagnosis was absolutely devastating and completely unexpected. Through much prayer and support from friends and family all over the country, a true miracle happened.

Here's more information about ACC.

Carri received a call from her Dr. tonight stating that her MRI and preliminary amniocentesis results came back as a best-case-scenario meaning the ACC is probably isolated and the MRI scan doesn't show any additional abnormalities. With the proper therapy, her child can live a relatively normal life.

Please continue praying for this young family!

Bow Giveaway!

Check out my friend Jenni's Blog, The Foster Family, for a cute giveaway! Her friend Jess owns an adorable Etsy store that sells hairbows for little girls. Leave a message in Jenni's comment section to be entered in the giveaway. A winner will be chosen on Friday, May 1st. Here is one of her many adorable designs:

bows1


Good luck!

Bringin' home the funk, gonna have that funk, oww.

Here's my humdinger...

It was inevitable. Anna got the funk - the daycare funk. For over 6 months, my precious baby has been funk free (excluding her funky diapers and up-chuck). I was very happy that we avoided the nasty Flu/RSV season (thanks to my Father-in-Law and wonderful sister who watched Anna while I was at work). After only two days of daycare, Anna came down with the nasty, snotty, cough-y funk. It's hard seeing my baby sick like that, but that's not the strangest part to this lil' story.

Read on.

In the wee hours on Wednesday morning, I was having a bizarre dream that involved a homeless man who had many cancerous lesions on his arms and hands. I promise I didn't hit the crack pipe prior to falling asleep - my mind just churns out this weird crap while I sleep. Anywho, in my dream this homeless man was asking for spare change. When I reached up to give him the spare change, all of a sudden someone shouted my name - NATALIE - at the top of her lungs. I swear to God it was plain as day. It was so loud that it woke me up from my bizarre dream, made me scream out loud which, in turn, woke Joe up and had me rattled beyond belief. I just sat there in the dark for a minute wondering what the feck had just happened.

Nature called, so I did my duty. Halfway through the nature call I got this sickening feeling that something was wrong with Anna. I jumped up, not even sure if I finished my business, and ran over to Anna's pack-n-play (she still sleeps in our room b/c mama likes it that way - for now). My poor baby was wheezing and hardly able to breathe. She was struggling - bad. This weird calm came over me, and I took her into the bathroom, ran a steamy shower w/ the heater on and waited for the funky gunk to clear from her lungs.

There are many oddities to this story.

1) I was dreaming about a lesioned homeless man.
2) My name was called out - was it a dream, a guardian angel, an acid trip gone bad (totally kidding about that). The voice sounded very much like my mom's voice.
3) Had I not woken up, what would've happened to Anna? The thought scares me to death.
4) I remained calm. Why is this odd? I'm the queen of over-reaction. I'm literally paralyzed in emergency situations. If I were an ER Doctor I'd be the one who would be sitting behind the curtains crying and curled up into a fetal position.

On another note, my sister said her fire alarm in her house went off right around the time all of this went down. Coincidence? Methinks God was trying to tell us something. It's one of those freaky-deaky things that happens that makes you go - whaa?

The good news is that Anna is much better. She had some snot issues yesterday, but I'm thinking she is suffering from sinus issues moreso than anything else. She has no fever and her lungs sound clear (my sister listened to her lungs today - she's a Respiratory Therapist). I don't want to be alarmist and take her to the pedi for every snot issue - I hope that doesn't make me a bad mother? Yes? No? Maybe?

Anywho, that was my humdinger. I was dreaming about cancerous lesions. I heard a voice which woke me up from a dead sleep - very odd and a tad bit freaky. Anna had the funk.

Cliff's Note version for you skimmers out there (ahem, Allison).

Calling all brainiacs!

Does anyone know why my comments overlap? Before I rip the code apart, maybe someone has a simple solution? I am but a mere green pea with the Blogger world and may be missing something very easy.

Here's an example of what I'm talking about - scroll to the comments:

Click me, por favor!

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

You complete me.

So, all of my layout edits are now complete. I think we should be good to go. Now I can actually focus on the reason I created this blog in the first place - to entertain the masses, (i.e. the one or two people who actually read my blog). So, tell me what you think. Do you like the colors? Layout? Any suggestions? I'm all ears. Please be honest, I promise you won't hurt my feelings (at least not too much). Also, if you have any widget (giggle at the word widget) recommendations, let me know! I'm new to this whole blogger cult.

Oh...

I have a humdinger of a post that I want to write about, but I am way too exhausted to write right now. I'll be back on later or tomorrow to fill ya in on the gravy that makes my life supa salty.

Stay tuned...

Cry.

UGH! Since I've switched over to a new blog format, all of the spacing in my posts is messed up! I promise I know how to separate thoughts into paragraphs. Please sit tight while I correct this issue. After I work out these last few bumps, hopefully this blog will be good to go, and I can focus on writing posts that are, I don't know, not BORING!

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Under construction.

Please bear with me while I make edits to my blog template. My blog is in that awkward, unfinished stage (much like my house) where I'm not quite happy with the layout. I've been searching high and low for a layout that suits my needs but haven't had much success, so please excuse my ghetto mess as I tweak things here and there.

The only thing my blog has going for it is the precious header banner that my friend Beth of Unskinny Boppy created for me!

Patience, dear grasshopper.

oneporkchop.blogspot.com

Intervention?

As many of you know, yesterday was Anna’s first day at daycare. For the past 6+ months, my father-in-law has been watching her on Mondays and Tuesdays, and my sister watches her on Thursdays – I work from home on Wed/Fri. Got that? It’s been so nice not having to send her to a germ-infested place, but I knew that setup wasn’t permanent, so I bit the bullet and finally enrolled her.

When I went to pick her up yesterday, things were, shall we say, interesting. As soon as I walked in the door, I was met with the following words…

“Yo’ baby is big!”

Me: “Huh?” (looking around to see from where this odd voice was coming)

I was greeted with this:

***WARNING PURE NASTINESS AHEAD***



tribe


Scared yet? Confused? Yeah, me too.

Some woman, two steps from Intervention material, was sitting on the floor and shelling out random tidbits about how unusually large my child was. I’m not one of *those* mothers who takes offense at comments like this – I actually take it as a compliment. I know she’s healthy – I get validation from her Pediatrician who has had many years of schooling to tell me this. Plus, her pedi has had appropriate dental care and is still in possession of all of her teeth. This lady was not. Even from across the room, I could tell this lady had a mouth that would do any meth addict proud. Why she was there, I do not know, but she did go on to tell me at least 5 more times that my daughter was unusually large.

So my daughter is a heifer, what’s it to ya, mush mouth?

On a side note, her teacher kept calling her Hannah and even wrote that name on a bin for her. I’m still a little undecided about this place. We shall see how this pans out.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Comments are fixed!

Looks like the comment feature of my blog hasn't been working. I fixed it, so go ahead and leave me a comment if you so wish.

I will love ya forevah.

Anna is now the daycare queen.

My little one arrived at daycare bright and early this morning. Mom is fine.

(I think.)

Someone is going to be terribly disappointed.

One man's trash is another man's treasure, right? That is, unless the trash smells like trash.

My cat Harley recently suffered from a UTI (urinary tract infection). Prior to getting her on some medication, she left a little piss present in my polka dot suitcase. I left it open on the ground after returning from a trip, and she took it upon herself to use it as a litter box. Yes, that's totally disgusting, but such is life when you own a pet. Cats are devious little suckers who like to do things like this to get your attention. Needless to say, she got my attention - one trip to the vet's office for some meds, and Harley is doing just fine.

My suitcase, on the other hand, is not.

It was kicked to the curb and left for the trash man to deal with. It's such a shame seeing as it was only used a handful of times and was in excellent condition. Wanting to avoid having all of my clothing smell like cat pee, I had no other choice but to throw it out.

I walked out to the car this morning and noticed that someone had taken the pissy suitcase off of our hands. I can just see how it all unfolded...

"Wow, look at that precious suitcase just sitting by the curb for the trash. I think I'll take it!"

5 minutes later.

"What is that smell?"

10 minutes later.

.. (person is passed out on the seat from the noxious cat piss odor)

Poor guy/girl. I hope they're not too terribly disappointed that their dumpster dive turned out to be a dud.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Daycare.

Tomorrow marks the start of Anna’s daycare career, and I can’t say I’m too excited or happy about it. The only consolation is that she’ll be within walking distance to my work, so I’ll be at peace knowing she’s so close by. We’ve been very blessed/lucky thus far that she’s been so healthy – we haven’t had one day of sickness since she came home from the hospital (she’s over 6 months old now). Now I need to knock on some major wood and brace myself b/c I have a feeling that the daycare germs are soon to invade. Oy!

Lord, grant me the strength to deal with this!



Screwy.

I know that my blog pics look screwy right now.  If anyone happens to stumble upon this blog before I fix everything, don’t panic.  Please, don’t.  It’s 1:46 a.m. right now, and I’m much too tired to figure this out.  Hopefully I’ll have some time tomorrow to play around more and make this place my new home.  Stay tuned.


Who Wants a Pork Chop?

The back story...

I don't eat pork chops. So, what's with the blog name? My life, to be quite honest, is comedic. The random stuff that happens to me on a monthly, daily, hell, hourly basis is definitely blog-worthy. Or maybe I'm the only one who thinks so?

So, what's with the obsession with pork chops? Please keep reading.

To help you better understand my story, here's a little picture of the front door of my house.


Cosmo 052


This picture was taken before we moved in - the yellow and white papers on the door are not eviction notices, I promise. As you can see, the main section of the door is glass, so if anyone wanted to rob us blind, all they'd have to do is take a peek to see our goods. Once inside, they'd be disappointed to find that the only valuable thing we own is a broken camera and a Simple Human trash can.

On with it. God, I totally ramble. You will get used to this.

So, one night my husband (Joe) and I were sitting on the couch watching the tele. This is what boring people like us do every night. Halfway through whatever brainless program we were watching - probably a DVRd episode of Springer - I decided that I was thirsty and much too lazy to get up and fix myself a glass of tea. So, I lovingly asked my dear husband to fix me a drink. He just sat there and pretended he didn't hear me, much like he usually does. To sweeten the pot, I figured I'd give him a little flash of the ta-ta. What man can resist a boob the size of a small grape? Hell, a raisin? My man can't!

I called his name, and when he turned to look at me, I began the ta-ta flash process. Shirt was up, ta-ta was exposed, doorbell rings. Ding Dong. Here's the problem. You see my door. We had on the living room light and it was dark outside, no porch lights were on. The doorbell rang at the exact moment that my shirt was in mid-air. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that whomever was on the other side of that door got to see the goods. It was Mardi Gras 1998 all over again.

I kid, I kid.

Being the brave woman I am, I ran as quickly as I could to my bedroom to hide. Nothing like making it even more obvious, eh? Joe answers the door. It's our neighbor, and he's come bearing gifts. Er, a gift. Just one gift. That gift was a...

...

...

porkchop.

Just one porkchop. Not two. Just one. He came all the way over to our house to bring US (meaning Joe and me) ONE porkchop. We had never really even spoken to this man before and he randomly comes over to bring dinner for one person when he knows there are two people living in the house? That, my friends, was the most hilarious part of all. He got to see my boobs and all I got was a lousy pork chop that I didn't even get to eat because Joe woofed it down before I came out from hiding.

Niiice.

My friends have never let me live this down. They chose this blog name for me, and I hope to do them proud.

The contents of this blog will be random musings about my life, love, family, health, etc. There will be no structure here, so if you like a structured, predictable blog, leave.

Just kidding...sorta.

Here are a few of the topics up for discussion here (although ANYTHING and EVERYTHING goes):

My precious baby girl Anna.

Anna10

5

My marriage.

joenat

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My wonderful family.

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My dog Cosmo.

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My cat Harley.

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My cat Chloe.

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My sick obsession with American Idol and most reality television.

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One Pork chop.

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Until we meet again.

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